


Herald's Rest

by anneapocalypse



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Innuendo, Stolen Moments
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-28
Updated: 2020-08-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:13:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26166190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anneapocalypse/pseuds/anneapocalypse
Summary: The Inquisitor finds a respite.
Relationships: Sera/Female Trevelyan (Dragon Age)
Comments: 16
Kudos: 32





	Herald's Rest

Wherever she goes in Skyhold, the Inquisitor may be found, waylaid, and some answer or task demanded of her. At the war table or the Ambassador's desk, in the rookery or the garden, in the library or the tavern.

"Inquisitor?"

"Herald?"

"My lady?"

"Your Worship?"

But there is one place no one comes looking.

Eleanor draws her knees up to her chest, feet bare on the window seat cushions, watching the bustle in the courtyard below. Though she could draw the patterned curtains for a bit more privacy, it is nice to sit and look out over the courtyard in relative peace. At her back, she can hear the sounds of the Herald's Rest, Maryden's latest tune drifting up the stairs accompanied by the plucking of lute strings, glasses clinking, and voices. Though she must be visible from below, and though Sera's little corner alcove lies open to the tavern, rarely does anyone disturb her here.

Perhaps the most effective deterrent is Sera's loud cry of "Oi! Piss off!" to any undesirable who should poke their head in.

El stretches out her legs again on the window seat. Sera, who has been scribbling in a dog-eared leather journal, closes the book carelessly and scootches over. She stretches, catlike, before draping herself over Eleanor's legs and laying her head on her thigh. El runs a hand through her pale golden hair, messy and sticking out at the back.

"Mmm," Sera murmurs, pleased. "Like havin' you here. You haven't got any Inquizzy-business after you this afternoon?"

"Oh, there's always Inquizzy-business after me," El says. "I'd just rather be here."

"No complaints," Sera says, then breaks out in a wicked grin. "Though if you want to have some real fun, we should run off to your bedchamber. 'Less you want the whole Inquisition to see me have you up against the window."

"Oh, I don't know," Eleanor teases. "You think it'd be good for morale?"

Sera snickers. "Good for my morale. And yours."

The war table beckons. Operations to plan, expeditions to discuss, scouting parties to deploy. Rifts to close all over. People depending on her. Duty calls.

Eleanor looks down into the smiling, freckled face of her lover and grins.

Duty can wait a little longer.


End file.
